Chapter Fifty-Four: Night Investigation

The force of the air punch was no less than that of a solid cannonball. The monster that Che Juchen had become was struck so hard its belly caved in, sending it hurtling backward. The wounds on Che Juchen’s body healed rapidly, yet he did not immediately charge forward again.

Around them, a crowd of expressionless humans gradually surged, encircling Weng Dongqi in a tight ring. Weng Dongqi surveyed his surroundings, his anger barely contained. “Monster, so you’ve already harmed this many people!”

The crowd buzzed with a hive-like resonance. “Pulse-bearer, do not meddle in matters that do not concern you.”

With a swift air slash, Weng Dongqi cut more than a dozen people in half at the waist. “Today, I will enact justice and destroy you, monster!”

“You cannot kill me, nor can I kill you. Our battle is meaningless,” came the reply.

From the depths of the severed bodies, wriggling flesh tendrils extended and fused, reconnecting what had been cleaved. In the blink of an eye, the bisected humans stood whole once more.

Suddenly, Weng Dongqi unbuttoned his shirt and stripped off his clothes, then removed his trousers as well.

From afar, Arthur called out approvingly, “That’s a fine physique—though not quite as good as mine.”

Angsa warned, his tone serious, “Be careful. I’ve heard that when a Pulse-bearer undresses, their combat power rises dramatically.”

While the two were distracted, Lin Jicang, who lay on the ground, abruptly opened blood-red eyes, the skin at the corner of his eye splitting with a faint crack.

Tossing aside his supple, bulletproof training suit, Weng Dongqi’s eyes sharpened like an eagle’s. His body trembled as if struck by electricity; air spun and surged, and dozens of new vortices formed across his physique—far more numerous and intense than before.

Weng Dongqi, now clad only in a pair of briefs, exposed completely to the air, moved with even greater fluidity.

The crowd howled, spewing hard bone spikes from their mouths, launching them in volleys at Weng Dongqi.

The protective aura surrounding him deflected most of the attacks; even those that made contact lost their force, unable to inflict any real harm.

Weng Dongqi pushed out with both hands, merging the air vortices into a solid wall that separated the crowd, the air explosion tearing flesh and bone asunder—yet the wounds healed instantly.

The crowd began to mutate violently, joints twisting backward so they crawled along the ground, launching a fresh assault on Weng Dongqi.

Air currents surged about him, and he seemed a true god of wind, striking down monsters without even touching them.

Fighting through the air, Dongsa’s venom could not reach his body, and any direct attack was simply too weak. For a time, the battle appeared utterly one-sided.

But Dongsa’s methods were already far beyond human comprehension.

A multitude of split forms spewed white threads, weaving them across the entire street. In mere minutes, a hellish web was constructed.

Strands of spider silk drifted in the air, split forms crawled across suspended webs, their twisted joints and chitinous claws transforming them into dozens of human-faced spiders lunging at Weng Dongqi.

Endless mutations enriched Dongsa’s genetic arsenal; it could even replicate spider genes onto humans, creating durable, mutated silk.

Every second, Dongsa selected stronger traits from tens of thousands of mutations, slowly and steadily forging ever more formidable biological tissue.

To Dongsa, life was nothing more than clay to be molded.

With the weaving of the webs, Weng Dongqi’s movement became increasingly restricted. He attempted to cleave a web with his palm, nearly getting stuck himself.

The web’s strength far surpassed industrial steel, and its flexibility was unmatched—even a speeding train would be ensnared, a helpless prey.

Yet Weng Dongqi, apex of all Pulse-bearers, would never be so easily subdued.

Suddenly, he drove back all the split forms, turned, and stood motionless for a moment.

Like the calm before a storm, the shrieking air seemed to freeze.

“Hmph! Hmph! Hmph!”

After a brief gathering of energy, Weng Dongqi circled his arms across his chest, tucked his abdomen, bent his waist, and squatted slightly. Three muffled grunts sounded as his body rose inch by inch, stretching upright like a hibernating bear awakening.

Then, from deep within his lungs, came a thunderous roar—like spring thunder nourishing all things, yet also resembling a cosmic explosion, dragons and serpents rising from the earth.

Following this mighty sound, countless sharp detonations burst forth, unseen blades of wind scattering like a sudden tornado conjured from nothing.

Weng Dongqi’s muscles swelled, veins bulged—he had entered a terrifying state of explosive power.

Punches, kicks, elbows, knees, shoulder charges—even every breath unleashed sharp and heavy air slashes from his body.

With every move, a chilling aura of death blossomed like lotus flowers in full bloom.

The air wholly surrendered beneath his feet; the forceful swipes of wind, like legendary sickle weasels, carried the storm into battle, shattering split forms one after another.

Then Che Juchen swooped down from above, using a gecko’s tail-shedding technique, his dense tendrils blocking most of the air cannons as he lunged at Weng Dongqi.

The stench was close; Weng Dongqi crossed his hands, arched his back, his body drawn taut like a steel bow.

“Crescent Sky Strike!”

Sorry, wrong script.

“Sun-Chasing Slash!”

His taut muscles emitted twanging sounds like bowstrings; a massive crescent-shaped air slash surged upward, striking Che Juchen.

Inside the Sun-Chasing Slash, hundreds of tiny vortices exploded, leaving Che Juchen’s flesh mangled and bones exposed, sending him flying backwards.

But Weng Dongqi's eruption was not over.

Even the walls were riddled with cracks as if struck by actual artillery, collapsing with a roar.

The turbulent air unleashed bursts of infrasound beyond the threshold of hearing, attacking the internal organs of all living things.

Dongsa’s keen vision could not even catch Weng Dongqi’s silhouette—he moved too fast.

His limbs, swung at such high speed, appeared as nothing but a blur, the air cannons reaching a range of thirty meters. Yet for all their ferocity, there was none of the transcendent elegance of a sword saint slaying from afar.

In this explosive state, Weng Dongqi was more like a mighty fortress of war, with thick barrels on all sides, turning everything around him to scorched earth.

The nearest split forms had already been reduced to pulp, utterly dead; the rest, though quick to retreat, suffered ruptured organs, barely enduring the assault of infrasound.

Even the concrete ground was covered in fine cracks, buildings swayed on the brink of collapse, and the webs clinging to them fluttered like ragged fishing nets in the storm.

The Wind God, Weng Dongqi, was indeed worthy of his name.

At last, the storm subsided. Weng Dongqi’s powerful body seemed somewhat drained, but even as he gasped for breath, there was not a hint of disorder.

With his unique breathing technique, fresh energy flowed within; after just a few cycles, he would be restored to full strength.

But Dongsa would not allow him much time.

Everything around had been flattened by air cannons, yet a massive shadow drew near through the haze.

He stepped into the blood, and the surrounding flesh crawled toward him.

Tendrils extended from the shadow, sweeping up and absorbing every last split form remnant, fusing them all. As its body swelled, its surging weight bent it low.

At last, before them stood a three-story-tall, gorilla-like monstrosity.

Its disproportionate lower limbs barely supported it; two thick arms pressed into the ground, crushing stones beneath. The creature’s body was covered in exposed, dark red muscle, veined with strands of white fascia, and a cluster of sticky, sea-anemone-like tendrils sprouted from its back.

Its enormous head bore dozens of hollow, human faces; at the very center was Che Juchen.